


Amon Ereb

by Grundy



Series: First Age [12]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: First Age, Gen, Third Kinslaying aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 07:52:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9113752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grundy/pseuds/Grundy
Summary: It wasn't really 'home' for any of them, but it would have to do.





	

Makalaurë breathed a sigh of relief as the gates of Amon Ereb came in sight at last – though he suspected he was not half as relieved as little Elrond, who was not a natural rider and still nowhere near as comfortable as his twin riding all the day long.

He was unsurprised when they rode into the courtyard to find a good many more elves than were strictly necessary waiting to help unload the wagon and lead the horses to the stables. They did all pitch in with their nominal tasks, but it was plain that most were there to catch a glimpse of the children their lords had brought home with them.

Elros took all the attention in his stride, but Makalaurë could feel Elrond huddle closer to him, ill at ease with so many unfamiliar eyes turned his way, kindly though they might be.

“Be of good cheer, little one,” Makalaurë told him reassuringly. “You’ll be inside soon, where it’s warm, and there will be a hot bath and a filling dinner ere long.”

Elrond nodded, though his expression looked rather dubious as Makalaurë swung down from the horse.

“Would you prefer to walk or be carried?” Makalaurë asked quietly as he lifted Elrond down, deciding it was best to leave the decision to the boy.

“I will walk,” came the resolute answer.

Makalaurë smiled. Even young princes had a sense of dignity.

Some of them, at least – for Elros didn’t walk so much as bounce up the stairs into the main hall, easily keeping pace with Maedhros’ much longer legs. Elrond walked sedately at Makalaurë’s side, his small hand linked trustingly in his older cousin’s as he took in his surroundings.

Carnastir’s stronghold was well built, and if it was less cheerful than the queen’s house in Sirion, it was by no means as grimly functional as Maedhros’ fortress at Himring had been. Originally envisioned as a retreat, not a front-line fortress, more care had been taken with the living quarters and common areas. Even now, after all their losses, it didn’t look too shabby. The library was still largely intact, and a few of the wall hangings were from the hands of his grandmother herself, carried all the way from Tirion.

Elrond paused at one such hanging that showed the Trees, delighted by the beauty of it, though Makalaurë doubted he understood its significance.

“This way, little one,” Makalaurë said, steering him toward the tower where he and his brothers had their rooms.

“You may choose what to do with Elrond,” Maedhros voice drifted down the stairs, “but this one sorely needs a bath before dinner.”

Makalaurë and Elrond both smiled at that, and Elrond snickered. Elros had started the morning by trying to climb a tree in pursuit of a squirrel, losing his footing halfway up, and landing in a sizable mud puddle. While he had been rinsed down in a nearby stream, protesting the entire time, he was still somewhat less than presentable.

“What about Glinwen?” Elrond asked. “Will she have a bath too?”

“Of course. But she will bathe with Nyellië and the other nissi,” Makalaurë pointed out. The girl might be young, but she was not as young as the twins – already old enough that it would be improper for her to bathe with grown neri.

Elrond nodded, apparently satisfied with that answer.

“Would you like to join your brother in the baths?” Makalaurë asked. “It would be as well to wash the dust of the road off before putting on your good clothes for dinner.”

“Why do I have to wear good clothes?” Elrond said, his small brow furrowing.

“We are having a feast tonight,” Makalaurë said, subtly infusing his voice with the exciting idea that this was a special occasion. “It will be your introduction to the folk of Amon Ereb. You should wear good clothes to make a good impression.”

Elrond looked thoughtful.

“Nana says first impressions are important,” he finally offered.

“She is quite right,” Makalaurë replied, relieved to find a point of commonality. How to speak to the children of their absent parents was one of several problems facing him and his brother. “Maedhros and I will also be wearing good things instead of our travel clothes. We shall all look like proper princes tonight.”

Of course, before they could look like proper princes, they had to convince Elros to stop diving in the bathing pools and doing fish impressions.

Even with only one hand, Maedhros proved to still be adept at managing to bathe both himself and a wriggling elfling who had no particular desire to get clean when playing was an option. He gave his younger brother a slightly exasperated look, as Elrond giggled his way through his bath at his twin’s antics – which only inspired Elros to redouble his efforts. Makalaurë, recalling all too well the bathtime wrestling matches during Tyelko’s childhood, was quite thankful he had charge of the calmer child.

When Maedhros was finally satisfied that Elros had been scrubbed clean of all mud, dust, and other forms of dirt- and managed to persuade the boy that it was now time to leave the bath he hadn’t wanted to get into in the first place- the two elflings were wrapped snugly in warm, fluffy towels.

Maedhros gave his younger brother a pointed look as he slipped off to his own room to dress himself, leaving Makalaurë to shepherd his young charges to the rooms that had been set aside for them.

The rooms had previously belonged to Pityo, but Maedhros had sent orders ahead to have them emptied and cleaned. Their retainers had seized the rare opportunity to redo the space. The only things that remained unchanged were the wall hangings in the sitting room, which had a night-time theme, celebrating Varda’s stars. The furniture was a mix of things that had been brought from Sirion for the boys and older pieces brought out of storage.

The sitting room had several chairs arranged by its fireplace, where a fire was already merrily crackling away, and a pair of writing desks, along with a small bookcase Makalaurë suspected would be filled in short order if Elrond had any say in it. There was a brightly painted chest that might even contain toys, though if it did not, Makalaurë was certain it would soon enough. They had carpenters and smiths among their followers who had little call to use their skills for less warlike purpose.

The bedroom now held a bed and a clothes press for each boy, along with hangings that must have been brought to Amon Ereb from Curvo’s dwelling in Himlad before it fell, for Makalaurë was sure they had originally been made for young Tyelperinquar. The woven rugs looked to be Sindarin made, and might have looked out of place to Noldorin eyes, but the boys seemed quite delighted by them.

“Look, Elrond, these are our own beds from home!” Elros exclaimed.

“Yes, I see. But the blankets are new,” Elrond replied, sounding intrigued as he traced the design on his.

Makalaurë looked, and repressed the twinge of pain.

Some thoughtful elf had managed to find some of the oldest chests in storage, unopened since Losgar. Pityo had never cared to use the matching bedclothes packed for them once his twin had perished. The peredhil twins seemed quite taken with the deep blue color and the silver stars. It was not inappropriate, for the motif was reminiscent of their father Eärendil’s device.

Opening the first clothes press, Makalaurë found that the twins’ wardrobes had been expanded. In addition to the clothes brought for the children from Sirion, most of which were clearly intended for indoor use, there were several outfits appropriate for outdoors pursuits, similar to what they had been wearing when first found. There were also a few more formal tunics, suitable for occasions such as the evening’s feast.

He decided that this being their introduction to the rest of Amon Ereb, the formal tunics in Nolofinwë’s colors were probably the best choice. To his relief, he found that there was a box on the high shelf containing a circlet sized for an elfling, silver with sapphire.

He was unsurprised to find that by the time he had set Elros’ outfit out for him, Elrond had managed to pick the matching items from his own clothes press, and correctly guessed that the shiny black boots were better suited for a formal dinner than the plain ones he had been wearing on the road.

Getting the pair dressed proved to be rather simple. Elros was inclined to cooperate, since it meant getting to the food faster, and the twins were old enough to need little help with the basics – it was only with the finer details, like braiding their hair and setting their circlets properly that they required adult assistance.

“Have I put my boots on right?” Elros asked fretfully as Makalaurë finished Elrond’s hair. “I think I got the laces wrong again.”

“I will check them in a moment,” Makalaurë replied soothingly. “But what do you mean again? You have been doing your laces properly every morning.”

“Do we _have_ to wear circlets?” Elrond added piteously. “It’s uncomfortable!”

“Yes,” Maedhros answered firmly from the door. “You do. You told me yourself that you are princes of the Sindar and the Noldor. Princes, even young ones, wear circlets when they dress formally.”

Given that circlets had provoked complaints from nearly all of the young princes of the Noldor in turn, Makalaurë suspected that this was a question his older brother had fielded a good many times over the years.

Carnastir had hated his to the point of having tantrums every time he was required to wear one – and that had lasted well into his twenties. Turukano was too prim to protest in such an undignified manner, but had often managed to ‘lose’ his before or during state dinners. Ambarussa, Irissë, and Artanis were of an age and had made a game of hiding theirs. Ambarussa had been fond of dropping theirs in the frog pond in the gardens. One of Artanis’ had turned up on the roof of the palace when she was thirteen, while one of Irissë’s had only been found forty years later, when she’d finally confessed that she’d thrown it into one of her grandmother’s prize rosebushes.

Elrond sighed, but made no further protest as Maedhros straightened the circlet on his head and tucked a braid back into place.

“It looks very handsome on you, Elrond, so no sulky looks if you please,” Maedhros smiled. “As soon as Makalaurë is dressed, we can go down.”

\---

When Makalaurë led the boys into the great hall a quarter of an hour later, both were on their best behavior. Maedhros had taken the opportunity while his brother was dressing to drill into Elros the importance of making a positive impression on the Noldor of Amon Ereb, most of whom would never have met a Sindarin prince before.

Rather unexpectedly, the usually irrepressible elfling was taking the responsibility of being Amon Ereb’s first experience of Sindar royalty quite seriously.

Elros and Elrond entered the hall at a sedate pace, nodding politely at any grown elves who greeted them and bestowing genuine smiles on those they already knew from the road. While neither one knew enough Quenya yet to understand the murmurs that rose up in their wake, Makalaurë could tell their retainers had taken the little ones straight to their hearts.

“Aren’t they sweet?”

“Such proper little princes!”

“Oh, look at his expression. Doesn’t he just remind you of Prince Turukano when he was small?”

“And we’re to have the teaching of them, just think!”

“Three children, can you believe it?”

Glinwen and Nyellië were already seated at the high table, with Glinwen given a place of honor between the twins. While that wasn’t a seating arrangement that would have occurred to Makalaurë, Nyellië had discovered that one of the girl’s few ‘duties’ had been to mind the two boys at formal occasions, so Maedhros had decided that sitting her with them would likely put all three children more at their ease than they would otherwise be – and possibly have a calming effect on Elros.

It seemed to work. Elros, for a wonder, managed to keep still and even look attentive as Maedhros spoke, thanking their followers for the good discipline they’d showed on the recent expedition, welcoming them back, and raising a glass to the fallen.

Both boys looked a bit uncertain as to whether or not they were meant to raise their glasses, which contained only apple juice rather than the white wine the adults were drinking. Makalaurë suppressed a smile when, after sneaking a glance at Glinwen, Elros raised his glass and his brother followed suit.

The rest of the hall was utterly charmed.

They were probably still more charmed when, several hours later, two princes of the House of Fëanor carried two princes of the House of Nolofinwë from the hall fast asleep.


End file.
